Zombie Rush 4 Page 5

  Was Leon a bad person? Maybe, Lisa didn’t know and didn’t care. He had a gun and was reluctant to cooperate, so he had to be taken down. Conversation wasn’t enough and would probably never be. Worry about the result when it’s time, she reminded herself.

  “We have you surrounded, Leon, and we are out of time. There’s a very large horde coming down on the complex right now, and we have no plans to stick around for that party.”

  “Not a problem; we’ve killed zombies before and we’ll do it again,” Leon shouted back.

  “I’m sure you have. I’ve been told by a former army officer that it will take one man firing constantly—and never missing—eighteen days to kill a quarter million zombies. With every shot you take, you will draw in two more until you run out of bullets and food.” She saw a couple of heads pull up from cover and give her their attention. “You don’t have to worry about that number yet because we destroyed that horde yesterday in about an hour and a half.” The group started to mumble behind Leon and he noticed it.

  “What you’re doing here is a dead-end street, Leon. There’s only one option out there and it ain’t the military or your congressman or mayor … it’s me. So lay down your weapons and come out here so we can get this taken care of. I can offer you security, food, clothing, and showers, and all you have to do is kill those who are already dead.”

  “This ain’t your business, lady. So turn your pretty little ass around and go back to your hamlet,” Leon shouted.

  “I’m so glad you find me attractive, Leon.” Lisa loved to put people off their guard with sarcastic comments. “Now I need you to lay down your arms so we can start taking care of the shit that matters.”

  “I got another idea!” Leon said as he pulled his AK around in an exaggerated arc like he was on some kind of movie set.

  Lisa was ready and already had her finger on the trigger before he was halfway through his theatrics, her sling set so her rifle was pointed at him. One shot sent a spray flying from his hip, and she checked her next shot as a tan blur came from the opposite side of the street.

  Tonka had slipped across the street behind the barrier on Franc’s side and attacked Leon from the hedges to Lisa’s right. Leon got two errant shots off as his shoulder was dislocated from the hundred-pound hound yanking on it and pulling him to the ground.

  Lisa reacted and advanced quickly, rifle ready, until she could stomp on Leon’s hand, forcing him to let go of the AK.

  “Tonka hold,” Lisa said, and Tonka froze with Leon’s bared and bloody arm still in his jaws.

  Lisa surveyed the scene and saw the others carefully setting their weapons down. She wasn’t fooled into thinking this was submission. Their weapons were still close enough for them to grab if needed, but they were willing to listen. She scanned them, looking for one who might be willing to step up. Her eyes landed on the tall, thin man that she had seen talking to Leon from a distance.

  “Mustafa, we need transport for forty and medical on my mark. Over,” Lisa said into the military radio, knowing that her location was monitored by the GPS in the radio. “John, have Kibble get one of his men in a skiddy, and see if he can keep a path cleared for us. Over.” She then focused again on the crowd. “You, what’s your name?”

  “Jim.”

  “Okay, Jim. Who are all of those people you have tied up out on the lawn over there?”

  “Most of them are our children and others are spouses,” Jim replied sheepishly.

  “Something’s not making sense here, Jim. Why would you tie up your wives and kids and start a fight with the other side of the complex?”

  “Frustration,” was all Jim said.

  “I need more than that, Jim.”

  “Pimps …” Jim paused as if he were summoning the strength or courage to say more. “Drug addicts, pimps, and whores is all they are over there, living off of government welfare, and we’d had enough. So we collected those of our own that they had perverted and brought them home. Now we’re going to eliminate the problem at the source,” Jim said, and Lisa saw that he actually believed in what they were doing.

  “You can’t do that, Jim,” Lisa said.

  “God didn’t mean for people like that to survive,” Jim said, his hand unconsciously straying toward his gun.

  “Keep your hand off that gun, Jim!” Lisa said as she advanced to within a couple feet of the man, her rifle pointed at his chest. Tina had advanced and had Leon under her sights as the rest of Kibbles’s group covered the others.

  “Don’t you see? They’re as bad as the zombies; maybe even worse.” Jim was almost pleading and his anguish real.

  “Nope, nope … just listen to me for a second,” Lisa stammered, not quite aware of what she could say to defuse the situation. She wanted to tell him about the racist group she had fought and of the many encounters she’d had in the last few days that told her everybody that could survive was needed to survive, but that all fell flat in her brain, never making it to her lips.

  “You see, they don’t matter anymore, Jim, and soon there won’t be any more drugs,” Lisa said, causing Jim to stop and listen. “There aren’t any gangs, there isn’t any welfare anymore, or any of that. The world has changed; it has been broken and there’s nothing left … except us. It’s up to us to remake it, Jim. Do you really want to start rebuilding on the premise of murder? This is all bullshit and we don’t have the time to keep explaining shit to everybody we meet,” Lisa finished bullishly.

  She heard mixed chatter coming from both the radio and the walkie that sounded garbled, but spoke of portending doom.

  “Now listen to me very carefully. Leave your weapons where they are and go over and untie those people immediately. You will get your guns back when I’m sure you won’t kill each other,” Lisa said as the sounds of gunfire started up in the background where John was in his Suburban. The group hesitated, but then slowly started moving toward the area where they had their people restrained.

  How many times am I going to walk into some kind of fucked-up situation constructed by some idealistic bastards? Lisa shook her head and went back to Tonka and his prisoner. “Keep an eye on them. I’m sure they have some pistols tucked away and we’re running out of time, so be careful. If any turn on you, shoot them.”

  “Roger that,” Tina said and walked past Lisa and the man on the ground.

  Leon had been stripped of weapons and was pretty much defenseless in his current position. “Okay, let him go, Tonka.” Tonka released as Lisa shook her head and knew she had no other option.

  “Roll over, Quick Draw, and put your hands behind your back.” He did as he was instructed as Lisa, for the first time in days, pulled the handcuffs from her belt.

  “Oh, so now I’m under arrest?” Leon whined.

  “We don’t arrest people anymore, Leon. We deal with troublemakers in a much more direct and final fashion. On your feet,” Lisa said as she guided him to his feet, realizing that her wounded ribs could pop from the effort. She thought of Skit who, to her knowledge, was still lying on the lawn bleeding out. She wanted to get to him, but she couldn’t take care of everyone at once. “Tonka, find Skit.”

  “So what? Are you going to shoot me?” Leon asked, a hint of trepidation creeping into his tone.

  “That’s not going to be up to just me, Leon. I suggest you just shut your mouth and wait until I have time to deal with you,” Lisa said as a teenage boy suddenly dived on Leon, knocking him back to the ground before swinging and kicking as if he wanted him dead. Lisa grabbed him and pulled him off Leon, who had just curled up and took it.

  “What the fuck?!” Lisa said as she shoved the boy down.

  “Don’t!” Leon said as she swung her rifle down. “He’s my son.”

  “Ohhhh, one of the ones you had tied up over there, huh? I should just let him kick your ass. Maybe later we will, right now we don’t have time.”

  Lisa was thinking about what she was going to do, when she saw Franc crossing the barricade with Neil and Sara.
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  “Just sit on that bench for now. Franc, why do they still have their guns?” Lisa asked.

  “What the …?”

  “Shut up, Leon.”

  “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, we checked them out. They’re gonna ride with the program,” Franc replied.

  “Ride with the program, huh? Well, the program is to set up a skirmish line on the east and north fronts. We’re about to have a whole mess of zombies coming down on us. Any kids or sick on that side?”

  “Kwik Stop, got any family hiding out over there?”

  “Yeah, everybody who can’t shoot,” a man in a cockeyed ball cap said.

  “Kwik Stop, is it? Well, Kwik Stop, you got about three minutes before these streets are going to be filling up with dead, so get them out and over here … pronto,” Lisa said as she started to see the leading edge of the Zs. “Neil, Sara, on me.”

  The rumble of diesel engines sent by Mustafa could be heard in the distance from within the newly silenced compound. Ten or twenty minutes and the soon-to-arrive skid steers would have this first wave cleaned out.

  Chapter 6

  A Seed Planted

  There was only a slight knock before the door popped open and the colonel’s head poked through.

  “Mayor Boweaver?”

  “Colonel Jeffers, come in, sir. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I just wanted to get to know the man in charge,” the colonel said politely as he slid into the room.

  “Ah, I’m afraid that you have been a little misinformed, sir. I have no power here; I merely take care of the organizational stuff—shuffling paper, sending out notices … other things that need to be done.”

  “You have to be kidding me; I see your name and official stamp on everything being posted around here,” the colonel said incredulously.

  “Yeah, they requested that I use the stamp to let people know that there is still a government working.”

  “You are the only one with any administrative authority left. Don’t you think they should give you your due? They’re just cops; they have no authority over you.” The colonel’s words dripped with implication as his eyes filled with concern over Boweaver’s mistreatment.

  “No. Actually they are following the state charter. As long as there is still a police department and a ranking officer such as the lieutenant is, I have no right to supersede their authority. I am free to advise—which I do—and to assist in administrative duties, and that is about it. If it was my municipality then it would be a different situation all together,” Boweaver replied as if he didn’t quite understand what the colonel was implying. He knew it was always wise to be a little country stupid until you get to know someone.

  “You have to hand it to the Hot Springs Police Department though, don’t ya? They’re doing a remarkable job,” Boweaver went on to say with his dopiest smile, and slightly crossing his eyes to give an unfocused look.

  Boweaver was the mayor of a medium-sized city in a medium-sized municipality. He wasn’t exposed to politics in a D.C. kind of way, but he wasn’t a complete idiot either. He had started a business when he was eighteen selling three used cars that he had purchased with his college grant money instead of paying tuition. He figured it was federal money that was intended to better his life and that was exactly what it did. Ten years later, he was turning down a Fiat dealership in order to take on a struggling Datsun. The next year they changed to Nissan and his ass suddenly shat bricks of gold. So when the colonel approached him with a second-rate ploy to manipulate power, he did so unaware that he was outmatched on that playing field. Nobody knew bullshit the way Boweaver knew bullshit.

  If D.C. politics is said to be akin to the novel Lord of the Flies, then Boweaver’s world would be The Jungle Book. A man alone forced to rely on his own contacts and instincts, wild, and constantly skirting the edge every day if only for a better purchase on the next. Eyes peeled and ears open, he had already negotiated the easy track to eventually lead the rest of what is left in America. All he had to do was kiss a little hero ass for a couple of weeks and he’d be right where he wanted to be. Calvin Boweaver had been kissing ass his whole life, so he didn’t mind. His one objective: keep the military out of it. Nobody wins when they’re at the helm.

  “So you’re okay with the executions and the seizure of personal property, taking over homes, and forcing people to work? It’s a little communist, don’t you think?” the colonel demanded.

  “I’ve heard that these things have been happening, Colonel Jeffers, but I have had no complaints as of yet. Unless, of course, you have one?” Boweaver said, trying to maintain a clueless facade.

  “Hell yes, I have a complaint. They’re ignoring the Constitution, for Christ’s sake,” the colonel said, his tone exasperated.

  “Oh, I see. The Constitution, you say? Do you happen to know which part of the Constitution? You see, I’m not one of those politicians with a highfalutin education. I’m no corporate lawyer, or studied Constitutional law. I am a car salesman who happened to be voted into office, so anything dealing with something as important as the Constitution, I will have to access my bylaws, which, of course, are back in the mayor’s office in Piney. That’s only about ten miles from here; well, ten miles and twenty thousand zombies. However, when I can get there, I will certainly research my bylaws and make a determination as to what my responsibilities are in this matter. Until then, I’m afraid that I have to keep doing what I’m doing to ensure the survival of as many people as we can. Now, what else would you like to discuss?”

  “Officer Benson, of course. He was leading here and now he’s hospitalized and I’m afraid there is no one steering the ship.”

  “Officer Benson was by no means in charge of the goings on here, Colonel. He’s a hard worker and heads one of the committees, but the majority is the rule. There are several committee members playing key roles here; average folks as well as some former military. That’s who is making all of the decisions. They’re even in the process of legislating how criminals are handled. So you see, Colonel Jeffers, your concerns are welcome, but truly unnecessary. We’re meeting this afternoon, and since you are the newly arrived military presence in the compound, I am requesting that you be there.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mayor Boweaver.”

  “Please, call me Bo.”

  *

  “You’re awake? The doctor said you would be out for at least another eight hours.”

  “Thirsty.” Benson’s tone was barely above a whisper but the nurse heard.

  “I bet you are. I’ll get a bucket of ice and some water for you. You can’t be moving around yet; that beast did a lot of damage and you lost a lot of blood. Had to go on a donor hunt, seeing as how you’re AB negative. That’s a pretty rare blood type at the best of times, let alone surviving the zombie apocalypse,” the nurse said.

  Benson looked at her weakly before drifting back into a drug-induced slumber. The nurse shrugged and adjusted his saline to try to combat his dehydration.

  It was the grip of small, clumsy hands on his and Danny’s voice that woke Benson hours after his encounter with the nurse.

  “Danny? Hi,” he said.

  “Hi, Daddy.” Danny’s voice was surprisingly gentle for a change. Danny was not a quiet child and had never been encouraged to be one because of his disability.

  Benson looked to the other side of the bed to see Krissy standing there looking at him with tears streaming down her face, her lower lip pulled with a look of regret. Benson didn’t understand why. He was alive; they should be happy. He scanned up closer to his right shoulder to see the pretty face of Julie looking down upon him. The only one not there was Justin, the newly adopted boy that he had rescued from the townhouses. Justin was old enough to carry a rifle and smart enough to use it, so Benson hadn’t really seen him around much at all. He slept at the tent with them and took meals, but for the most part, was out training and doing many other things to ensure survival.

  “So why
are you all standing around with sour faces? I’m not dead.”

  “No, you’re not dead. The nurse said that you even woke up yesterday for a minute,” Julie said. “Did anyone tell you anything when you were awake?”

  “Yeah, she said that she would get me some ice,” Benson said with a smile, mildly confused but determined to make at least one of them smile.

  “Listen, Art, it was the Mastiff that attacked you, and he did a lot of damage.”

  “I know. I felt it when he dislocated my hip and it still hurts.”

  “It’s more than that … the dog crushed your femur in two places and severed your femoral artery.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. The nurse said I lost a lot of blood,” Benson replied as he tried to work his hand out of Danny’s grasp.

  “Yeah, Daddy, the whole compound tried to donate blo—”

  “Hang on, Danny; now remember what we have been working on with interruptions, okay?” Julie said, sounding a little too callous but everyone was aware that Danny’s propensity to interrupt was an ongoing problem that had to be stifled.

  “Okay … I’m sorry,” Danny said as he finally completely released his father’s hand. Benson’s hand started to creep down to his injured leg before Julie’s stopped it.

  “Just listen to me for a minute, Art. Your leg required surgery from an expert ortho surgeon and a vascular specialist,” Julie paused, unsure if she should continue.

  “What happened? Did the surgeon botch it or something?”

  “No, Art. We don’t have any surgeons or even a full-fledged doctor. We have a couple of NPs and a few PAs who are incredible, but no actual doctors. Not many survived the initial onslaught so that left us in a bad situation when it came to your injuries.”